[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

Quinn leaned close, his face only a few feet from Murray's. 'And I was hoping I wouldn't have to tell anyone about that little incident in Lisbon you told me about.' Reflexively, Murray recoiled. 'Are you going to help me or not?'

Murray closed his eyes. 'Goddamn it, Quinn. Why the hell did you have to pick me?'

Quinn smiled. 'Because I knew I could count on you.'

After several phone calls, Murray learned that Burroughs was having dinner at Duquois, a small upscale restaurant downtown. 'There,' Murray said after he wrote the restaurant's address down and handed it to Quinn. 'Have a nice talk.'

'I think you may have misunderstood something, Ken,' Quinn said. 'You're coming with me.'

'No, I'm not,' Murray said.

Quinn smiled. 'Yes. You are.'

Chapter 29

A taxi dropped Quinn off one street away from Duquois thirty minutes later. He made a twosquare-block inspection of the area surrounding the restaurant to be sure there wasn't anyone waiting for him to arrive. All appeared quiet.

Once inside the restaurant, he was shown to a table near the front door. He ordered a glass of mineral water and a stuffed mushroom appetizer. There was no need to look for Burroughs. Quinn had seen him the moment he walked in.

The spook was sitting in the far corner near the back. Quinn noticed that Burroughs's taste in companions hadn't changed. Burroughs liked them tall, he liked them blonde, and he liked them fake. He liked them young, too. Tonight's date couldn't have been more than twenty-four, at least a quarter century younger than Burroughs. The man himself hadn't changed, either. His unnatural tan was still capped by dyed black hair. As usual, he was wearing an expensive, European-tailored suit.

He and his date seemed to be near the end of their main course. Quinn watched as a busboy approached their table and removed some dishes. A moment later a waiter brought over an unopened bottle of wine. He showed it to Burroughs, who nodded. While the waiter opened the wine, Burroughs returned to his conversation with the woman.

Quinn turned away when he heard the front door to the restaurant open. It was Murray. He stood nervously near the front, waiting to be helped. He started to glance toward Quinn but stopped himself, obviously realizing it wasn't a good idea. A moment later, the maitre d' looked up. Quinn watched as Murray spoke to the man, then they both glanced toward Burroughs.

The maitre d' turned back to Murray and asked a question. Murray replied, then slipped him some euros. This seemed to satisfy the maitre d', as he smiled and pocketed the bills. He held a hand up indicating for Murray to wait, then walked across the restuarant toward Burroughs.

When he reached the table, the maitre d' leaned down and whispered something in Burroughs's ear, pointing back toward Murray. Burroughs looked over, and Murray gave him a little wave. The look on Burroughs's face was not pleasant. He turned his attention to his date, said a few words, then stood up and followed the maitre d' back across the restaurant.

Once the two had passed him, Quinn placed enough money to cover his bill on the table, then rose and followed at a reasonable distance.

'What do you want?' Burroughs asked as soon as he reached Murray.

Quinn continued past them, stopping at the dessert counter and leaning forward to examine the cakes. He was just close enough to hear them.

'I'm Kenneth Murray. Strategic planning.' 'I know who you are,' Burroughs said. 'Why are you interrupting my dinner?'

Murray paused, no doubt uncomfortable that Burroughs knew his identity. 'There's an emergency that needs your attention,' he finally managed to eke out.

'What kind of emergency?'

'I don't know. I was still at the office, so I got volunteered for the run.'

'Why didn't someone just call me?'

'I was told it was too sensitive. It's got to be face-to-face.'

Burroughs seemed to ponder this. 'Okay. We're face-to-face. Give me whatever it is you've brought.'

'I'm not really the messenger. I got volunteered to be the chauffeur,' Murray said, sticking to the script Quinn had worked out for him. 'The information's with the captain in the car. I thought it would be less conspicuous if I came in. You know, instead of someone in a uniform.'

Burroughs scowled. 'Are you parked close by?'

'Across the street.'

'Hold on.' He turned and walked back to his table.

As soon as Burroughs was gone, Quinn looked at Murray, giving him the barest of nods. Murray looked like he was about to crumble. Quinn glanced over his shoulder and saw that

Burroughs was talking to the blonde, no doubt telling her he'd be back in a few minutes. That was Quinn's cue to leave.

A few minutes later, Quinn could hear their footsteps on the cobblestones. He was sitting in the passenger seat of Murray's car, back straight, like a good military messenger. He'd had Murray park as far as possible from any streetlights. While he could see them approaching on the sidewalk, they would only be able to make out his shadowy form in the car.